Love you Both, The Third Thing Remix
by karabair
Summary: Lois Lane throws a stapler, makes a list, and tries to negotiate a balance in her feelings for Richard White and Clark Kent or whatever the hell his name is.  Superman Returns fic.  A remix of a story by Trascendenza.


The moment that Lois Lane realized she needed to re-evaluate her philosophy on relationships, she was standing in her fiance's office at the Daily Planet, throwing a stapler at Clark Kent's head.

Clark. Kal-El. Superman. However the hell she was supposed to think of him now. Her only regret as she stormed out through the newsroom, leaving not-Clark babbling at a possibly-too-amused-by-the-whole-situati 

on Richard, was that she hadn't taken the time to aim the thing properly. If she had hit him, the stapler would have shattered on his impenetrable Kryptonian skull, and then Clark would have to stop pretending that he needed to borrow it. If he couldn't pretend to need the stapler, he wouldn't have any excuse to come and talk to her again, ever, and that would be the end of this little farce.

She wondered whether she could get him fired. Lying about what planet you were from on a job application was probably a federal crime or something. At least, Perry wouldn't look very kindly on it. Especially if Richard put a little pressure on him.

Richard. There was the problem. Perry White's nephew. Lois's fiance. Here Lois was being a diva, stomping around the streets of Metropolis, having a fit because Kal-Clark-Superman had finally confessed something that she had figured out a long time (okay, something that Richard had figured out, but once he said it, it was just like Lois had known all along, and being an ace reporter she _should_ have known, and that was almost the same as knowing).

Now that the words had finally been spoken -- _I'm Jason's father. I'm Superman._ -- the three of them (four of them; why the hell was poor Jason stuck in the middle of this?) would finally have to do something about it. Except that Lois was stomping, while Richard was stuck with the doing. She knew how he would handle this – taking Clark (in the daytime, in the city, on the ground, he was still Clark; she was almost used to this idea by now) to Richard's favorite Greek restaurant, on the philosophy he had acquired in journalism school, that injecting ouzo into any situation automatically improved it.

If Richard was going to be hand-holding Clark, while Lois was stomping, she ought to be doing something, like revising her philosophy of human relationships.

Except that what she actually found herself doing was thinking about Richard. Because if she could figure out Richard's place in this whole mess, it might actually start to make some sense.

David Bryant, the finance editor from the _Gotham News_, was one of Richard's prep school classmates from Exeter. His name came up a few times in conversation, early in their relationship, when Richard had drunk too much of the Greek wine that Lois mocked him for loving so completely. She was really just jealous that the pregnancy kept her from having any, and she loved hearing Richard's stories about his misspent youth, stories that her laughter only encouraged. He must have become accustomed, in his responsible adult life, to presenting himself as the good boy in any scenario. Lois tried to give him a chance to say, _Hell with that_. Richard made her laugh. It was a nice change. 

David was never a major player in Richard's stories, exactly. But often, Lois would catch him speaking in the first-person plural, and with her reporter's instinct for precision, she would ask, "Who's 'we'?" "Oh, you know, David was there – he's an editor in Gotham now, did I tell you that?"

Lois didn't think anything of it, really, until the night of the party at the National Editors' Conference. "I guess David Bryant's going to be there. Remember, I told you about him --?" And Lois just nodded, concentrating on the terror of getting into her dress. Five months ago she wouldn't even have known they made cocktail dresses in maternity sizes, and now she was going out in public – with Richard – and she was _showing_. 

Richard had wanted to give her a diamond ring to go with the new dress, but she lowered her gaze at him and said, "Is this for your comfort, or for mine?" Showing up newly engaged and obviously carrying a child would be as good as hanging a sign around her neck: RICHARD WHITE'S MISTAKE (no matter that it wasn't true) or simply GOLDDIGGER. No thanks. She would much rather attend the party as Richard's date, unabashedly knocked-up and proudly ringless, and let people think whatever they wanted. Lois Lane had made her professional reputation by not caring what anybody thought of her. As for Richard, he was Perry White's nephew. His grandfather had founded the _Daily Planet_. Richard didn't need to care.

Once Lois had made up her mind not to give a shit about anyone else's opinion, she found herself enjoying the party. Richard paid her plenty of attention without hovering. One committee member's wife did have the nerve to greet Lois with a remark on her _courage_ in committing to motherhood so _quickly_. Lois then responded with solicitous concern as to whether the woman had been able to find good child care again after that unfortunate incident with her husband and the Slovenian _au pair._

Honestly, why anyone thought they could win a bitchy-remark contest with Lois Lane was beyond her. On the bright side, while everyone was gossiping about her and Richard, no one was making "I spent the night with Superman" jokes. At least, not to her face.

A little later in the evening, Richard put his hand on her arm, and gently drew her toward a tall, fair-haired man with a dazzling smile. "Lois? This is David." They talked for a while, telling stories about the old days and all the hell that Richard – yes, Richard – used to raise. Lois listened. She laughed. She nodded. She watched the two of them.

And, when David solicitously asked what they wanted to drink, and headed off in search of a decent red wine and a "bloody Mary without the vodka," Lois backhanded Richard on the arm. "Why didn't you tell me that part?" she demanded.

"What part?" Richard's blue eyes shone with innocence.

She ran a hand through his hair and kissed his cheek, to show she wasn't upset, then stopped to whisper in his ear, "The part where he's totally in love with you?"

"Ahh – well --" Richard ducked his head a little, but not before she saw the blush rise in his cheeks. "It was a long time ago, Lois."

"Oh," she said, primly, "I see" -- enjoying his embarrassment a little, even as she caught on. She _knew_ this about him, of course. He had told her on one of their first dates. They were lying in bed, after a very enjoyable round of lovemaking. _I've had,_ he said, _ that is, I've been with men. Mostly when I was younger just --That is, not only when I was younger – I like women, I like **you**, but it's complicated._ He looked at her with a nervous, pleading smile, a look that asked whether this was going to be a deal-breaker. She just laughed and kissed him. For all his attempts to be cosmopolitan, Richard could be unexpectedly naïve about some things. Lois didn't doubt that Richard liked _her_, and anyway – _Christ, Richard,_ she thought. _The last guy I was with ran around in tights_. That thought, for once, Lois kept to herself.

Still, understanding that Richard had "been with men" in theory wasn't quite the same as seeing the looks pass between him and his old school friend. "Long time ago?" she repeated. "Bullshit. He still likes you."

"Lois!" Richard said, looking injured. "I wouldn't –"

"Maybe you should." She heard herself say the words before she had quite worked out the thought. 

Richard sputtered a little – "You mean, _you_ want –" He stopped trying to say the words and looked down at his hands, tentatively tapping three fingers on his wrist.

Lois couldn't help laughing. She was in her second trimester, and her hormones were all over the place. But tonight, just the effort of coming to the party had nearly knocked her out. She had a feeling that as soon as she got out of here, she wouldn't want anything more than to go home and sleep. And besides –"Not me," she said. This isn't about me. You and David have some catching up to do without me getting in the way." She reached out to touch his arm. "If you want --?"

Richard kept looking a question at her, slightly gobsmacked but not exactly displeased. "I mean, if it's all right –" Then he frowned again. "Is this a test?"

Lois was about to snap that she wouldn't do that to him, that she didn't play those kinds of mind games, that she was always honest and completely straightforward with him. Except, well. . .there was that one tiny thing. "I don't know," she admitted. "What would we be testing for?"

Richard looked at her for a moment, and, before he could answer, David reappeared with two glasses. "One cabernet sauvignon –" He handed the drink to Richard, "-- and one V-8." Then, glancing between the two of them, he frowned, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Richard wants to tell you --" Lois answered. "There's a place he wants to take you. Just for old time's sake." She made a show of yawning. "Me, I ought to go home and get some rest."

She didn't, though.

Lois went home, but she didn't go straight to sleep. She didn't go to sleep at all, though she did try at first. She lay down on one side, the only way she could get almost halfway comfortable, and curled her knees toward her stomach. Richard's fine cotton sheets felt silken against her skin, as she listened to the quiet of the empty, sprawling house – so close to Metropolis, yet seeming far away. Before moving in with Richard a few months before, Lois had lived in a cramped little place in the city; tiny, dirty, and loud, but all her own. Richard didn't know it, but she still held the lease – rent control, she told herself; she couldn't afford to give that up. She sublet it to a _Planet_ intern for way below market, on the condition she could have it back on short notice. Planning for contingencies, Lois told herself, though she hadn't exactly worked out which ones they were.

Maybe it was just comforting to know she could have a place to herself, if she needed it.

_Fortress of Solitude._ She had thought that, the first week after Kal left. Kal, as she was just learning to call him, despite the S on his chest. Kal, who she finally thought she was really getting to know. She didn't know, then, that it was the week after he left. She hadn't seen him for a few days, but that wasn't especially unusual. Metropolis had been quiet, relatively speaking. Still, Lois was tired and felt a little queasy, and oddly hungry, and for the first time she could remember, wondered whether everything in her apartment smelling like cigarette smoke might actually be a bad idea.

Lois didn't go to the roof that night; she didn't stand by the window willing him to appear. That would come later. This particular night just felt like any other, as she slipped into her comfy pajamas and curled up with a soft blanket on the secondhand chair to watch reruns of a soap opera about 35-year-old "teenagers" with perfect skin. She watched it, absently snacking on leftover cake from Clark Kent's going-away party – where had he transferred? Jimmy would know, if Lois remembered to ask, which she probably wouldn't. Lois licked the icing off her fingers and even though she had plenty in her to-do pile, this once she watched the television until it switched over to infomercials for miraculous products that promised to make the things she never cooked easier to prepare. She thought about buying one, just to own her own little piece of a miracle. But ordering would involve using the phone, which would involve talking to another person, and that night, Lois just wanted to be on her own, like this. _We all need a Fortress of Solitude_, she thought, and decided she would tell that to Kal, next time he came. She might have to beg off flying, though, until this nausea went away.

She fell asleep, dreaming of the first time they had flown together. The phone woke her. The clock said 3 AM, and, on television, an image glowed of fire in a downtown building. The announcer's over-earnest voice said: _People trapped on the upper floors. . .running to the roof, watching the skies for signs of. . ._

With a smile, Lois picked up the phone. "I'll be there, Perry. And don't worry. So will Superman."

He wasn't there, of course. That was the first sign. Or, Lois thought, remembering – the first sign that she noticed. There must have been others she could have picked up, if she were really listening. Maybe that was part of being with Kal. He was quite literally too good to be true, but once you'd gotten to the point of accepting that he actually _was_ true, it became much too easy to hear what you wanted from him. Whether it was actually what he tried to tell you or not – Lois couldn't be sure about that anymore.

Lois couldn't sleep while Richard was gone. So much for the Fortress of Solitude. In the short time they had been together, Lois had gotten used to lying with Richard's arm around her. She was used to his easy breathing, even to his waking her up at four in the morning to ask if she wanted anything to drink and whether she thought that devoting a semi-weekly column to e-commerce was forward-looking, or annoyingly trendy. She was pretty sure that Kal-El of Krypton never thought about things like that, but it wasn't so bad, really. Richard was never going to take her flying, with his cape snapping in the breeze and a synthetic heat shield around them to keep out the Arctic wind.

Still, the bed was lonely without him. If this was a test, maybe that was what she was testing.

As the sky lightened, Lois heard the cab wheels crunch in the driveway. She stood by the living room's panoramic window, looking over the river at the Metropolis skyline. The door opened and shut, and Richard's steps advanced behind her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Good morning?" His voice made it a question.

"Now it is." Lois leaned her head back to kiss his neck. His hair was a mess. He smelled like hotel soap and aftershave that wasn't his own.

His hand slipped down to her waist, but stopped above her protruding belly. "Are you mad at me?"

"No." She took his palm between her fingers. "I told you it wasn't a test." 

"Actually, you said –" He laughed. "Never mind. It doesn't matter, anyway. There isn't anything there anymore. Not with David and me."

Lois felt a little light on her feet for a moment. She didn't know whether the feeling was disappointment or relief. "So nothing happened –"

"Ahh –" Richard ducked his head. She wondered if he'd had that telltale blush when he worked a beat; if so, no wonder he'd made the jump to editor. Reporters had to be better liars.

She laughed. "Something totally happened. I don't need details, sweetie. Though if I went off with some hot girl, you'd want –"

Lois was trying to tease him into flirtation, but Richard frowned and shook his head. "This wasn't just some guy. He was important to me. Just like you are –" He leaned in to kiss her.

Lois held him off for the moment. "I'm not exactly in a position to judge you." She put fingers on his wrist and guided his hand down past her waist. "You're trying your best to be honest with me, and you haven't even asked about –"

"You said he's out of the picture. Right?"

"Right." She thought about the things happening in the world. Ten story fires, and Lex Luthor, and foreign wars, and the soon-to-be-inevitable tabloid stories of Lois Lane's baby bump. If all those things could be happening without a sign of Superman, he had to be out of the picture. She stood on her toes to give Richard a kiss. "Absolutely right."

"Well, then," he said, kissing her back. "Then what difference does it make?"

"None," she admitted, giving in to the kiss, for a moment. Then she drew out of it and looked at him hard. "Would it make a difference if he wasn't? Out of the picture? If he wasn't –" She raised a hand her eye, feeling the stupid sting of tears. "What if he wasn't out of the picture, and it turned out I still loved him?"

Richard stopped, and looked down at his hands. "I hope," he said quietly, "that I'd be brave enough to give you the same chance you gave me last night. And once that happened – I hope there would be a way that I could still be with you."

There were three things. Lois used her time walking up and down the avenue to put them in order. First thing, they couldn't keep lying about this. To Perry White and the villains and the world, sure. But not to each other. Not to Jason. As for Jason – Richard was his father. Period, end of discussion. That was the second thing. The man who had attended his birth and changed his diapers and taken him to most of his doctors' appointments while Lois was on assignment – that was what a father was. And the third thing -- Well, she wasn't sure of the third thing, yet, actually. They would have to sort that together.

Lois found Richard and Super-Clark-Kal at the restaurant. They were looking at dessert menus and pictures of Jason. The latter were in a little flip folder from Richard's wallet, one picture for every year of his life, and a portrait of the three of them – Jason on Richard's shoulder, beaming, one hand on the nose of his father's plane, the other reaching down to play in Lois's hair.

Lois stood by the table for a moment, her breath coming shallow as she looked down at them.

"Lois?" said Clark. As if on a slyly delayed signal, he jumped to his feet and started pulling out her chair, "Richard said that you might have the sorbet, and also, perhaps, an ultimatum?"

She stepped in front of the chair but didn't sit. Instead she watched Clark, all eagerness-to-please and Kansas-bred manners. Ever since she had made the Clark-Kal connection, she had assumed that the whole stuttering-farm-boy routine was an act. But now, when everything should be out in the open, with no reason to lie, Clark Kent was the same as he had ever been. It didn't compute, really, this powerful world-savior being nervous around her. She looked at Richard, wondering if it made any more sense to him. But he was just smiling like it was Christmas and his birthday all at once.

"Three things," Lois announced, taking her seat. "But the third thing is most important so I have to say the third thing first."

"Doesn't that make it the first thing?" Clark asked, pulling down the frames on the glasses they all knew he didn't need. 

When Lois didn't answer immediately, Clark looked helplessly at Richard, who shrugged. "The man has a point, Lois." She could hear him choking back the laughter.

"You're an infuriating man, Richard White," she snapped. "I bet this is what you've wanted all along."

"Wanted what?" Superman asked. Looking again at Richard, he said helplessly, "Was that the third thing?"

"I love you both," Lois said, at last, with a resigned and happy sigh. "And God only knows what we're going to do about that."

END 


End file.
